Charlie's Angel
by Thobbit
Summary: It wasn't that it was competitive, that Dean was so happy with Cas that Charlie, having moved into the Bunker, wanted an angel of her own. It was completely unintentional. And, like everything important in Charlie's life, it happened because of her fandoms.


_A/N: Set in a hypothetical post-show 'verse in which Cas had to permanently give up his Grace to get his siblings back into Heaven but it's okay because everyone lived and now all the characters get along (more or less) and live happily ever after, the end. I own nothing but the dialogue and my lovely OC._

_Also, I have literally been waiting to use this title for a fic since "The Girl with the Dungeons and Dragons Tattoo." SO happy._

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_**Charlie's Angel**_

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Watching porn with an angel was undoubtedly one of the weirder things Charlie had ever done. Even by her extremely-lowered-these-days standard of weird, it was weird.

Okay, so technically she had done it before, with Dean and Cas, but that was different. Cas wasn't really an angel any more, he didn't even act like it as much as he', and anyway he'd spent most of the time just staring at Dean. Stares which were reciprocated and then some, and that was the first and last time Charlie had watched porn with the pair of them.

That was feeling pretty hypocritical of her, though, because gods all knew the only thing she was watching right now was Zadie. The angel's dark hair was pushed all to one side, the side away from Charlie, happily, leaving her lean profile in full view. Her full lips were slightly parted as she stared at the figures on the laptop screen, not in lust so much as intent curiosity. Her suit, clean grey and white-collared against the warm toffee of her vessel's skin, was slightly wrinkled where it ran into Charlie's bed. They were sitting side by side, on top of the covers, cross-legged, with the laptop tilted up between them.

"The characterization is very inaccurate," the angel said critically, pursing those lips. Even sitting cross-legged, her posture was impeccable, adding definition to her vessel's natural curves. "Neither Eowyn nor Arwen is so inexperienced in travel that they would bring only one cloak between them." She frowned. "And should they not be traveling with guards? Even before the end of the books–"

"It's not supposed to make sense," Charlie explained. "I told you, it's all just an excuse–"

"To engage in sexual activities, I understand," finished Zadie. She leaned forward for a closer look, like she was studying something under a microscope. "'Porn Without Plot' it's called, correct?"

It wasn't that Charlie had _intended_ to teach an angel about nsfw. Zadie – "Zadkiel", she'd introduced herself – had just showed up at dinner one night, like angels did periodically. Ostensibly, they were there to make sure Kevin was still safe––"Prophet of the Lord" and all that jazz. It was only by unspoken agreement that Heaven seemed to have decided that, after he'd gotten their home back, Castiel Winchester née Angel of the Lord was included in their list of People Over Whom to Vigilantly Watch. Some angel or another seemed to find an excuse to drop down to the Bunker at least once a week.

Zadkiel and her beautiful Indian vessel were new though, so Charlie had smiled flirtatiously at this latest addition to what she'd settled, these days, on calling "the family." She'd been returned a blank stare and studied, cordial handshake. It wasn't until the pie course (it was an entire course when Dean cooked) that Charlie had been talking to Kevin about the latest Assassins' Creed release and Zadkiel, listening, had asked for a clarification on some point of the plot...

Charlie was always a sucker for a captive audience, and Zadkiel never seemed to tire of listening to her ramble about her favorite series. It was like crack for a nerd, just to spazz nonstop for hours at a time, and Zadie took it all in, remembering everything, occasionally asking for clarification about particularly elaborate plot, and even coming up with her own theories to explain the plot holes she inevitably noticed. ("You can call me 'Zadie'," she'd said during her third visit to the Bunker, a month or so later, when neither Cas nor Kevin were even home.) It hadn't been a one-way flow of information, either: Charlie had yet to be bored by Zadie's stories of the past several thousands of years, much less her descriptions of entire other solar systems.

It was probably inevitable that they'd get to fanfiction, Charlie realized, and it was barely a transmat beam from there to what they were watching now. At least it was relatively _good_ fan-made porn, no _Belladonna at Badon's Hill_ but pretty decent costumes and actually realistic accents. "Arwen's" Elvish rolled prettily off her tongue...and on to Eowyn's, just now, as the smut picked up the pace.

Zadie remained focussed as the actresses removed their armour and huddled together under their one cloak. Charlie watched too, now; it was getting to the good part. She leaned forward and upped the volume a few notches; this particular film had some clever Sindarin innuendo, and she didn't want to miss it.

"Is it really so pleasurable, this joining of lips?" Zadie asked curiously. She licked her own, experimentally.

"Yeah," Charlie replied absently, momentarily distracted by the way Eowyn was moaning. "It's pretty good."

"Like this?" Zadie replied, and suddenly the angel was on top of her, literally sitting in her lap, silky black hair brushing against Charlie's shoulder and smooth lips slightly parted against her own.

Charlie would have responded enthusiastically had she not fallen backwards under the unexpected onslaught of Entire Other Person. Luckily, Zadie fell on top of her, so bodily contact was actually increased. That was a definite plus, because holy cow_, _Charlie had wanted to do this for _weeks_.

"Just about," she replied, wrapping her arms around the angel's shoulder blades and slipping her own tongue into past Zadie's luscious, rosy lips.

Just then – _just then - _there was a loud knock on the bedroom door (at least she'd closed it earlier) and Dean's gruff voice called, "Charlie! You in there? Cas says dinner's almost ready." The doorknob turned and he poked his head in. "Oh hey, Zadie. Didn't know you were here. Staying for dinner?"

"Really, Dean?" Charlie demanded, propping herself up on one elbow. Zadie, angel-fast, was already back on the other end of the bed. "Every single time? Dude, if the tent's a'rocking––"

Dean's eyes widened satisfactorily, taking in her scruffed-up hair and Zadie's blush and the sweet pillow talk, mixed Elvish and Rohirric, now coming from the laptop. He opened his mouth to say something, closed it again, then tried a second time with a somewhat defensive, "This isn't a tent."

Charlie rolled her eyes and sat up, for the sole purpose of chucking a pillow at his head. "Do I complain when you and Cas are up half the night? No, I do not. I just wear headphones. So go away."

Dean caught the pillow with a smirk. "If you say so, your highness." He slipped back out, closing the door with a satisfactory click.

Zadie was standing, though, looking worried. "Perhaps we should not continue. If Castiel is expecting us for dinner..."

Charlie pulled her back onto the bed, pushing the laptop out of the way and swinging her legs over her angel's lap. "They'll be fine," she assured her. "I bet Cas will be proud, you getting your own experience with humanity and all."

Zadie's lips curved up. "You human souls are as bright as any Silmaril," she informed Charlie. "It seems to me no strange thing to wish closer contact."

Charlie grinned back, tangling her fingers in Zadie's thick, soft hair. There was even a smell about her, of old books and freshly washed feather-down pillows. "I think you've got Lord of the Rings down cold. Tomorrow, we marathon Firefly."

"Tomorrow?" asked Zadie, eyes alight. "All in one day? Is there time for such a thing?"

Charlie leaned forward, deciding to address that travesty later. "Well we're definitely not starting it tonight."


End file.
